Get off on Parseltongue
by Kaizen Kitty
Summary: "Maybe you should have been sorted into Gryffindor?" You're right. I should have. But the Sorting Hat decided differently, didn't it? Harry/Draco slash
1. Sorted into Slytherin

**Sorted into Slytherin**

Lying with you on my shoulder in a dimly lit room, feeling your breath in my neck, surprisingly cold. I shouldn't be surprised, you say. This is normal, you say. But I don't think so as the whole world hates me and there's nowhere I belong.

You say it's not personal when Snape sneers at me in class, taking points from his very own house. You say it's kindness when our dorm mates soak my Transfigurations paper in diluted pee instead of obliviating it. You tell me meeting Ron and Hermoine doesn't have to be awkward. But how would you know?

"Aw, don't be so pathetic Harry. Just tell them to piss off next time."

That's mean.

"What, are you trying to be better than them? Don't fancy stooping to our level?"

It's not that…it's just wrong. I don't want to hurt anybody.

"Like you did in DADA yesterday?"

That was an accident!

"You'll have to hurt them though, if you want to survive…"

Maybe I don't want to survive? If it meant destroying someone else's life, I'd bloody well die instead.

"How thoughtful of you. Maybe you should have been sorted into Gryffindor?"

You're right. I should have.

"Oh come on, I didn't mean it that way. Potter. Potter, don't turn away from me."

I'm trying to sleep.

"No you're not. Potter,"

Bloody hell Draco, what do you want?

You knock me over with a kiss, almost knocking me out of bed. It's forceful and it's…warm. We touch and sigh, and when we separate I die. Because I never want to be separated from you, not even for a single minute. But you don't know.

Then there's always stars, and lips, and tender skin, and legs, oh God yes, legs… And when I'm about to come you break away, shaking your head with a silly lopsided grin.

Why do you still bother with a pathetic Griffyndor like me?

"You mean the Boy Who Lived?"

Yes, yes…the Boy Who Lived, or whatever the papers call me now. Why are we here? Why are you here? We're different Draco, it will never work out.

"I believe it will."

Why?

You laugh, then look away, stroke my arm.

"Forget about it – doesn't matter."

No, it _does_ matter. Merlin Draco, talk to me!

"Oh, so you've gone on to wizarding swear words now? Must be bad then."

This is hardly a laughing matter.

"Alright, I'll tell you. But you'll have to do something in return."

Get on with it.

"You're strong. I…I believe in you."

That's it?

"Yes. Now, onto your part of the bargain…"

What a rip off, you call that a bargain?

"You're talking to a pure Slytherin Harry, what else did you expect? …I believe a lot in your power, I believe you can surpass the Dark Lord…

…and take his place."

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A/N: Please review if you have an opinion, I'd really want to know. Does this sound stupid? Should I continue? All and every input greatly appreciated.


	2. Two hurt little Boys

**Two hurt little Boys**

The goal has always been simple, crystal clear: defeat Voldemort, save the world I love. And then what? Then life will return to normal, people won't have to fear for their lives, live in uncertainty. But I've really never asked myself: what comes after?

"Piss off mudblood."

People like that…would follow anybody. And I watch Vincent do another impersonation of Hermoine. I wish he wouldn't.

Why does she have to stare at me in disgust? It's not like I can do anything about it. He's not my friend, I bloody hate him Hermione. But Ron too shakes his head and turns away to their cauldron.

You pat me on the back, whisper a soothing word in my ear, but it's not enough. It's not enough because I know it doesn't change anything. No matter how many friendships I break over you, you're still a hoax, still a sleaze, still drawn to power like a blinded moth.

"Harry, why? Why … bloody Malfoy."

And Ron shouts at me in the courtyard, pacing it up and down, telling me to leave you. Telling me you're not worth it. But he doesn't know how vulnerable you are at night, how you cried in the dark, and yelled. And how shocked you were when you woke up in my arms for the first time. I still remember, still have the mark to prove it…some scars don't go away Draco.

Ron wasn't there when I confided my fears to you.

But still he's right. I doubt that you really love me, I doubt that you'll ever do.

Love, who needs love? How stupid, you say. You say it's not about love, it's just survival. It makes me wonder what would have become of me if you weren't my roommate. What would have happened if you hadn't cried at night, and begrudgingly accepted my touches? You probably don't believe that I would rather die than use those nights against you. Still, even now, despite all we've been through, you're still fearing betrayal.

So Draco, I repeat to you this: no matter what happens, I'll never leave you. We don't have to be close, we don't have to be friends, but I won't forget the kindness you've shown me. Never.

"His father is a Death Eater, did you know?"

Ron, why do you have to…

"Because you're going the wrong way Harry! He's dragging you down, he's going to kill you."

You don't know him, I say, and realize how silly it sounds.

"I don't have to. He's a bloody Malfoy, for Christ's sake!"

Isn't that equally judgmental as calling Hermione a mudblood?

And now I know I've lost Ron. His eyes are wide, nose wrinkled, he takes his broom and leaves. And part of me knows he is right, tells me to fly after him, to make up, and then…then what? Leave Slytherin? Because the fact still remains that I need you, need to drink you like a drug. That otherwise I'd rather kill myself than set another foot inside the Dungeons.

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A/N: Thank you for reviewing Mainki, hope it didn't disappoint. And, thank you for faving Dark Angel!

As always, any and every input appreciated and will be taken into consideration.


	3. Relenting Control

**Relenting Control**

"Sounds pretty scary, doesn't it? _'Death Eater'_…"

Is he or isn't he?

"Why is it so important? I'm not my father…

…oh, you don't trust me. Of course, that's what it is."

No, it's not.

"Bollocks! Who'd have thought? The great Harry Potter, not trusting his most devoted follower."

More like his only follower.

"What, don't Professor Dumbledore and half the school's female population count? Well, I do suppose they don't see a future Dark Lord in you…"

Shut up!

"Shut up? Why, Harry, I thought you wanted me to speak. Don't slam the door in my face, hasn't anyone ever told you that is rude?"

And so you sit down on my bed, without permission, and continue your witty little dialogue…when all I want is to grab your throat and twist and twist you till it bleeds.

One day you're going to be the death of me.

"Aw, Harry, no need to be so morbid. I know of other things we can do instead."

And then you wink, and toy around with my hair for a bit, before going lower, coming closer. And by now I know there is no resisting this, there is no ignoring it or hiding my urges from you. Can't say I was not warned, but part of me had never expected us to start doing this. I'd just thought you needed comfort, you needed a hug, human warmth.

Perhaps I was wrong. Because what we share is not warmth, not comfort.

"You know sometimes I say stupid things, but, but you know I could never do without you. You know that, right?"

And I nod that I know, without actually knowing anything. All I know is you've come from your high, and are riding it out, you'll get over it soon, be your old charming self again.

"I'd leave everything for you, I don't care."

Lies.

But there you are, flustered and smiling, so insanely happy. And I don't know whether to believe you or not.

What was that stunt you pulled during Charms today, instead I ask. Because at times like these you are at your weakest, you will answer any question I ask.

"I didn't really hex him, just pretended to…"

Pretended my arse, I've heard them talk in the common room. You've put him in the hospital!

"Dear God, Potter. I'd think you were a fan of Zambini – he's not gay, you know."

What does that have to do with anything?

"Well, maybe if I knew you fancied him… Ouch! No, not there… Potter, please."

You've got such a fine way of pretending to be weak, Malfoy. When in reality, you're anything but.

"Really? Does that annoy you?"

Peculiarly, it didn't. Only made me love you more. But love was not what you wanted to hear, no comfort, no warmth. You wanted to be owned, to worship beyond reason. And here I found myself fairly liking this position, regardless of how wrong it sounded.

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A/N: Thank you so much for the faves and follows dear readers! ^^ You guys made me so happy I decided to update a little sooner. If there's anything (negative/positive) you have to say, I'm all ears.


	4. Speak to me in Parseltongue

**Speak to me in Parseltongue**

And you lace your fingers with mine as we hold hands. How momentary, how fleeting. Why can't I hold you like this at day time, when everybody can see? Does it repulse you so much? Don't be stupid, you say. Father would flip if he knew, you say. But half of the school knows, perhaps even more. It's just rumors, you say. Rumors will go away at the lack of evidence. Somehow I find that hard to believe.

When we attend the Yule Ball, I'm supposed to take Pansy Parkinson…something about us having the same hair color, she says. We look alike, we _'match'_, she says. She's got a crush on me, you say.

I don't want to pretend Draco. I don't want to see you dancing with Daphne Greengrass. I want you to dance with me.

That's too public, you say. So, holding hands, whispering in class, hiding in unused rooms and closets is okay, but dancing is too out there.

You hiss in my ear, and tell me to forget. Forget, forget…and claim you here and now. Who cares about some dumb ball?

Well, I do, actually.

"It's not important, none of it is. Most of them will die quite soon anyway."

I push you away, this is not happening. I'm not doing it, I'm against it, every fibre of my being.

Then why does it matter, I say. Why do we have to keep this secret, if most of them will die anyway? Why can't I parade you like my lover, like my prize, for all the world to see?

It will endanger our plans, you say.

Piss on our plans.

And then you stare at me with this broken down, vulnerable gaze. Makes me want to hold you, touch you, love you… And when I do, I realize that you are pulling the strings here, you have been all along. That whatever happens next month, I'm going through with our plans, for better or worse. Not because I love you, not because I fear you, God no, …but because you make me feel so strong. And you know it.

"Harry?"

Yes?

"Speak to me in Parseltongue."

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A/N: The End.

Thank you for reading. Before leaving I'd like to say that this ficlet was inspired by Anna Fugazzi's Harry/Draco fanfic **"Bond"** here on ff.

www . fanfiction s/2493456/1/Bond

(without the spaces) If you've got the time, give it a chance. Myself I think Bond is fantastic, it reads like a real published novel AND has a decent plot AND Harry/Draco goodness.


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